A Faraway Dream
by Capricorn Chaos
Summary: Some say death is only the begining... but it isn't what it truly appears to be. Nothing but blood, pain, and hate remain where there was once warmth and forgiveness.
1. The Meeting

--A/N- CAPPEH DOESN'T OWN ANYONE/THING. XD Except for Mentos. She's mine. :3  
Rated for: Language, gore/blood, violence, and some suggestive situations.---

_She had been called many things in her lifetime. Master of Scorpions, Dragon Tamer, and Ranger of the West… the list was always growing. Those names were long forgotten now, though. Her new alias was the Slayer of Hope, a darkened soul whose purpose in life was seemingly lost._

_Varrock held no place for her now, not after what she had done. She traveled far out to the west again, out to Baxtorian Falls, where she had spent many a day before, contemplating everything._

_Baxtorian Falls was the perfect place for her to go to after what had happened._

'Iban…

'Why? You didn't have to do what you did… we could have just left this filthy land together and headed here, out to Hemenster, where the Rangers I once considered family live…'

_Iban. He had been a knight, a lover, and a traitor all at once. His appearance was imprinted on her mind, she had loved him so._

_He had flowing black tresses that usually fell freely about halfway down his back, and mahogany eyes that could change from vehemence to affection in a split second. He had been tall, around six and a half feet, and always had a sword strapped to his side._

_Oh, yes, he had been the only thing left in this world that she had loved besides the desert, scorpions, and dragons. But nothing could even come close to replacing him…_

_---And thus, the story begins…---_

_-Three months previously…_

"What?" the king laughed, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. He stared at the woman leaning in the stone archway with utter disbelief. In the corner of the room, a tall guard was leaned against the wall; hand on the hilt of his sword anxiously.

"You want me to hire a woman as part of my royal guard?" he nearly choked with laughter.

Mentos, gray eyes veiled by her dirty blonde hair, pulled her lips back in a disgusted grin.

"What?" she stared, imitating the king in a girly voice, "You want me to hire a woman?" her head snapped to the side while she stared intently at the king. Her voice changed. "I could probably kill you right here and get out before anyone had a chance to sound the alarm, you know."

The look of laughter faded from the king's face, and he looked nervously from the knight in the corner to the woman leaning in the doorway.

"You'll have to get through Iban first," he said quickly, taking a step back, "If you can hold you own against him for a few minutes, I'll gladly put you on my guard." Mentos nodded, and let her longbow lean against the wall.

"Daggers only." she said curtly, drawing a knife from a sheath on her thigh. The knight stepped forward and pulled off his helm. Obsidian tresses spilled out and hung in front of his shoulders.

"Gladly." he replied, unstrapping his sword from his belt. He drew a chipped dagger from seemingly nowhere and nodded to Mentos. "Begin."

Mentos stood there for a moment, carefully eyeing Iban across the room. She'd have to move quickly if she wanted to take him by surprise. Being lithe as she was, she considered this an easy task.

She leapt forward with lightning speed and struck out with her dagger, only to hear the distinct clash of blade-on-blade, to her great dislike. How could he have dodged her attack in all that armor?

He turned on his heel and tackled her over, pinning her down on the cold stone floor. They both sat there for a minute in silence, chests heaving from moving as fast as they could.

Iban himself paused, sensing Mentos' muscles tense beneath him. His lips stayed in an expressionless position, neither frowning nor smiling.

"Son of a bitch…" she muttered, shaking her head, "How can you be that fast…"

"Heh, I like it like that." he retorted, making Mentos' face flush red.

"You jerk!" she yelped, rolling out from under him. In one fluid movement, she was on her feet, shaking her head to keep herself focused on the fight.

Mentos whirled around on the spot in time to block Iban's attempted attack at her ribcage, both of them pressing against the other blade. She gritted her teeth as his lips curled into a feral smile, his eyes glinting with a type of malice she'd seen only one place before.

"Wait, it can't be…!" she growled, shoving forward and holding down Iban on the floor, "I've seen that look, there's only one other being that it could have belonged to…"

Iban stared up at her, and the expression in his eyes faded to one of utter boredom.

"Honestly, you're the only person who has ever caught me off guard." he murmured, pushing his hair out of his face. The king, who had been watching intently, undoubtedly waiting for the woman to fail, seemed let down by Iban's loss.

"My liege," Iban started, not trying to move from his position, "I would highly suggest putting her on your guard." The king nodded wearily and pulled out a piece of paper, quickly signing it with his own name.

Mentos warily slid off of Iban, not letting her guard down until he had sheathed the dagger and began pulling off the heavier pieces of his armor.

"If you don't mind," he said, his voice strangely polite, "I'd like to ask you to accompany me on my latest mission. I'm heading out west towards Baxtorian Falls, and I was dreading the thought of going alone."

Mentos thought for a moment and then nodded slowly in response, still not absolutely sure of whether or not he could be trusted.

"I'll go with you," she started, "As I know the land out there very well." Iban nodded, and Mentos could have sworn she saw him smile lightly. She shook her head to rid it of the thought.

"We leave tomorrow morning. Meet at the center of town, ready to go." he said, whirling on his heel. He stalked out the door, leaving Mentos looking slightly windswept behind him.

The next morning, Mentos was seated on the edge of the fountain, quiver of rune arrows strapped to her back, and her yew longbow slung over her shoulder. Three identical daggers were strapped to her thigh, and her deep purple cloak was pulled around her shoulders.

Mentos shivered slightly, the cool morning mist of Varrock settling in the area. She was about to get up when someone's hand slipped around her waist, causing the hair on the nape of her neck to rise. She let out a snarl and turned quickly, only to see that Iban had managed to sneak up behind her.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she growled, her muscles finally relaxing. Iban shrugged and began walking towards the western exit of the town.

"Wait, if we're going to walk, I have a faster way…" Mentos grumbled, jogging to catch up to him. He stopped and turned slightly to look at her, his crimson eyes discretely taking in her entire form, as she was wearing her dragon hide armor.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked, looking away from her. She came up next to him and whistled quite loudly, resulting in an echoing roar throughout the valley. Two dragons, one red and one blue, sauntered out of the tree line, their leathery wings folded against their scaly backs.

"We can ride," she suggested, watching Iban's calm expression as the two dragons came up to nuzzle Mentos' hand, "It's faster this way. We'd reach the Falls in a matter of three or four days."

Iban nodded in agreement and gently stroked the crimson beast's muzzle, expression still relaxed, although the beasts in front of him had been know to kill humans who hunted them.

Mentos swung herself onto the dragon's back, comfortably sitting between two of the spikes on its spine. Iban, too, pulled himself up. Mentos gently whispered to the beast, and it tossed its head, taking off in the direction of Falador.

Iban's dragon seemed to not want to get left behind, so he instead gently nudged the creature, which easily caught up to Mentos.

"You have a natural talent with dragons." Mentos commented lazily, glancing at Iban. He looked back over at hers, and for a moment, their eyes locked. A feral grin crept over Iban's lips.

"What's that look for?" Mentos asked sharply, stirring Iban out of his thoughts.

"Nothing… nothing…" he replied, turning back to the road ahead of them.

After riding all day, they stopped along the lake outside of Taverly, and set up their camp. Mentos stretched out lazily on a large patch of soft grass, watching a few embers float through the night sky.

Iban, having finally collected the firewood, came and sat down next to her, also watching the sky. His obsidian tresses fell gracefully over his shoulders, shimmering in the dim firelight.

"Iban…" Mentos started quietly, not removing her gaze from the sky, "Why did you ask me to come with you, anyways…?"

He didn't answer immediately, but rather pondered about how he could answer it before opening his mouth. Mentos, however, waited patiently for his reply.

"I…" he paused, resituated himself so he, too, was lying on his back, then continued, "You're different. I normally make trips like this alone, but…" he rolled onto his side and looked carefully into Mentos' eyes. He slowly reached out his hand and turned her head to face him.

"Iban…" she growled in a low voice, carefully watching his eyes. He scooted slightly closer to her, slipping his arm around her waist.

"I know how much you want to be a loner, Mentos," he murmured quietly, the muscles in his body tensing, "I know you grew up in the middle of the desert with no one to care for you… we're the same… I never had anyone there for me when I was little…"

Iban's hand slipped onto her hip, causing her to tense somewhat. He carefully stroked her cheek with his fingers, smoothly pulling her over next to him.

And strangely, Mentos felt herself unable to resist, somehow instead twisting her fingers gently in his lengthy hair. He wasn't a stranger, he was somehow so… familiar…

Iban tentatively pressed his lips against her neck, wrapping his other arm around her back and touching the back of her head. She let out a growl in response, nipping at his shoulder. Iban let out a half-snarl and pulled Mentos up against him, trembling slightly for no apparent reason.

Letting out a strange mix between a grunt and a growl, Iban managed to force Mentos below him, heart hammering against his chest. She reached up and carefully pulled him back down, her lips connecting with his after he let out a strangled groan.

"We… shouldn't do this…" he growled under his breath, gently returning Mentos' kiss. Her lips curled into an odd smile, gray eyes glinting in the fading firelight.

"Why? Because until yesterday you didn't know I existed?" she murmured in reply, mischievously biting his lip. He growled in response and let his muscles relax, before deftly setting himself down next to her.

"Because if anyone should find out, we'd both be hung on the spot, that's why." he replied, stretching out on his stomach. Mentos shrugged and rolled onto her side.

"Alright, then," she muttered languidly, "I'm going to sleep, then. You have night watch."

And before Iban could retort, she was fast asleep.


	2. The Phoenix

Chapter two is here:o finally. Thanks to all those who reviewed!  
Disclaimer: See first chapter, please.

* * *

Iban sighed heavily. Night watch was _the_ most boring thing he could ever dream of doing. The only thing to do was stare into the dying embers of the campfire. He looked to the side for a moment at the sleeping Mentos, who looked so comfortable lying there.

He shook his head and gazed over to the horizon, which was just beginning to show signs of daybreak. Pushing his raven locks from his face, her turned slightly to gently shake the sleeping woman's shoulder. As expected, her eyes snapped open, as if she hadn't been sleeping at all.

"It's time to go." he said gruffly, though standing up quite gracefully. He lifted his bag onto his shoulder and approached the crimson beast he had ridden before, stroking the dragon's neck before lifting the bag onto the creature's back.

"Yeah, sure…" Mentos muttered, packing up her own bag. She yawned, still not fully awake, picked up her longbow and quiver, and headed over to her own mount. Something caught her eye, though, and she paused for long enough to gaze upon something she hadn't noticed the night before; a large branch laying just inside the forest.

"Iban," she started, distracted by this new piece of scenery, "Did you knock down any braches while collecting wood for the fire last night…?" The knight gave her a puzzled expression and shook his head.

"Why do you ask?" he replied, pulling himself onto the beast's back. Mentos shrugged, deciding to ignore it. If it was a problem, they could deal with it later.

"Nothing, let's go." she growled, leaping onto her dragon's back. Whistling lightly her mount picked up its feet and took off at a run, spreading its wings to make the leap over the barrier between Taverly and the small fishing port of Catherby. The creature's claws dug deep into the rocky ledge, and its muscles strained for a moment before it pulled itself over, landing evenly on the other side. Iban's dragon had done the same, and was breathing in heavily the scent of fish and seafood.

"We need to get out of here quickly," Mentos yelped over the sound of crashing waves on the rocky shore, "the fishermen don't like the dragons hanging around." Her own mount pranced slightly, "The Seers up to the north with let them stay there, but from there on, we're going to have to go on foot."

Before Iban could retort, Mentos was off again at a gallop, her dragon's neck outstretched for more speed. It cut through the village, taking corners without a problem, and finally jumping the low fence with ease into the forest. The dragon tossed its head and continued the fast run to the large village, Mentos lying close to the beast's back, cape whipping in the wind.

Iban, too, was running alongside the woman, easily sitting on the massive crimson lizard. He glanced to the side, spotting a black blur coming up on the other side of Mentos. Before he could yell a word of warning, the cloaked man atop the black dragon leapt from his saddle, falling just short of Mentos' steed, but grabbing her waist and pulling her off nonetheless. The two hit the ground and skid for fifteen or twenty feet in the dirt before Mentos pulled an arm free and punched the man in the face.

He laughed.

Mentos' eyes widened as the man stood, unharmed, and pulled back his hood, revealing himself to be nothing other than a fabled Shade, an undead being who hunted those that had killed and buried many of their enemies.

"Foolish mortal," he started, pulling his hood back over his face, "You can't kill me with strength alone." His voice was icy, like death itself. Mentos, despite her urge to keep calm and collected, felt herself begin to shake.

"Go get laid." she spat, pulling a poison arrow from her quiver and dropping her longbow, stabbing the ethereal spirit in the chest with it. It let out a bone-shattering scream, which left a ringing noise in Mentos' head long after it had been slain. Lying there on the ground, she didn't move, staring up at the clouds floating by in the sky.

An out-of-breath Iban skidded to a halt next to her, kneeling down next to her body. A worried expression flickered across his face, before he carefully looked over her, realizing that she was fine.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, reaching an arm under her back and lifting her off the ground. He let her back rest against him for a moment, before she caught her breath, regained her composure, and stood up.

"Shades wander these lands. That's the third time in my life I've been attacked by one." she said, a feral, far away look on her face. She shook her head and stood up. Looking to the west wearily.

"We're in the wilderness." she said, gazing about, "There's no other travelers out here, and I can see the Black Knight's Stronghold from here. Just the very top, but I can still see it." she muttered, shaking her head, "That must have been why we were being followed by a Shade. There's a graveyard not far from here, filled with the bodies of restless souls."

Iban shifted unrestfully for a moment, escaping the notice of the ranger. His eyes glanced about, and his hand crept to the hilt of his long sword.

"Let's get going," he murmured, standing up. A soft coo reached his ears, and he smiled, before holding out his hand. "My dove." he said softly. Mentos had almost opened her mouth to retort when a snowy white bird landed gracefully on his outstretched hand.

Bringing the bird in closer to his body, he gently stroked its head, earning a croon of approval from the dove.

"My Zaros has returned." he murmured, lightly placing a kiss on the dove's back. Mentos raised a questioning eyebrow, but it was no surprise to her that a dove would carry the name of Zammorak's predecessor. Symbolism, of course.

"We need to head north." she yawned finally. Iban let the dove fly from his hand ahead of them, just as a cold wind blew from the north. His hair fell into his face, and it suddenly occurred to her how sadistic he looked, in his blood-red chain mail and the rest of his armor. His eyes, blood red now as they were, had a longing expression on them as he gazed northward. '_What I would do to know what he's thinking…_' she though quietly to herself.

"We'll have to walk, those dragons won't go any farther into the wild." Mentos said quickly, starting to move. Iban nodded and followed close behind, letting the well-traversed ranger guide their way.

--

After traveling for a quite a while, they paused next to the graveyard mentioned by Mentos before. It was dead silent, quite different from the last time Mentos had dared go this far into the Wilderness.

A thunderous clash of metal-on-metal met her ears as she whirled around, drawing a poison-tipped arrow to her bow as she did so. When she turned, she had enough time to see Iban taking on two white knights at once, dragon daggers in both hands, before she was hit hard on the back of the neck with the hilt of another soldier's scimitars.

Iban, meanwhile, had managed to kill the two knights, and was now charging to protect the unconscious ranger. Sheathing one dagger, he pulled his long sword from its sheath, cleaving the solder's helm in two. Blood dripped down from his weapon as he sheathed the other dagger, looking around for another sign of more troops. Seeing none, he dropped his weapon, lifting Mentos' body into his arms. She was slowly coming to, and he was glad for the fact that she was indeed a strong soul.

Zammorak would have a hard time bringing her down.

He shook the thought from his head, and let her sit up on her own as she rubbed the back of her neck.

A smile crossed his lips, which from one corner was dripping blood, as he looked at her.

"You all right?" he asked, standing. She nodded a reply, lifting herself off the ground as well. She bent to pick her bow off the ground, but stopped as a familiar sound hit her ears- the burning of runes into a spell.

"Iban, get-" she started to yelp, turning around as fast as she could. A mage, clothed in robes of the followers of Saradomin was standing not fifty feet off, and had just released a powerful spell of light, which struck his directly in the back. Grabbing a dagger from her thigh, she threw it, hitting the mage square in the chest. He fell, uttering words in an ancient tongue as he died.

A cough distracted her, and Mentos hit her knees, now lifting Iban's body into _her_ arms. His back was soaked with blood, and crimson now poured from his mouth, matching the color of his eyes.

"I need… to tell you something." he said, voice fading from its normal smooth and strong manner of speaking, "I am truly a black knight in disguise. My position as a white knight was merely a cover-up, as a spy. I'm positive those four found the necklace in my room at the castle, but that is a different story…"

He coughed softly, gripping his sword to his chest with one hand.

"I am a devout follower of Zammorak. The necklace they most likely found is a symbol representing him, and blessed with his power by a monk living far off to the west. I am known among them as Zammorak's Son, the one who will bring back the glory of the chaotic god.

"I feel so weak an insignificant in this body, Mentos. I could do so much more with the body of a demigod, and I must only hope that when I pass over, Zammorak will see what I have done for him and grant me that wish."

He closed his eyes and let a sigh escape his lips, before looking straight back up at Mentos. Zaros, his faithful dove, had landed on her shoulder, and now hopped down to his master's chest, a series of lamenting croons and coos escaping its throat.

"Zaros, fly far away." he murmured, voice becoming more and more strangled and weak, "Stay away from my deceased body, take care of the ranger. Should you stay, you may be sacrificed. Leave with the lady. I will see you again someday."

Mentos now realized she had a bloodstained tear streaming down her cheek. Had she really become that attached to this man in such a short time?

"Iban, you can't…" he whispered, pushing his thick, ebon hair from his face, "You can't die like this."

Iban managed to crack the most heroic smile across his lips so stained with his blood. Yet, the smile seemed so satanic at the same time, and it now occurred to her that the expression in his eyes she had noticed back in Varrock was that of the statues in the west dedicated to Zammorak, the chaotic void that could kill without a single care in the world…

Mentos let his body lay on the ground and unhooked one of her two cloaks, this one black with blood red trimmed at the end, and lay it over his bleeding body. Death himself would soon come for him.

"Goodbye… my lady…" he said softly, reaching up his crimson-stained hand to gently stroke her cheek. After a brief moment of contact, his limb fell back, and the ivory dove soaring in the skies above let out a lament so sorrowful, the entire world could hear it.

Iban, Black Knight and loyal follower of Zammorak, was dead.

..--..

Mentos rose tenuously from where she knelt, hands quaking as she did so. Once again, the only thing that had meaning in her life had been ripped away. His blood lay splattered all over, as she forced herself to move his dead body to the center of the still graveyard, on the altar of Zammorak.

"_Aeternum vale_." she whispered, placing her hand on his chest for the last time.

She turned and left, whistling for her most loved steed. The dragon was tall and the color of the night, with pointed ivories that sat in rows inside its maw.

"Let us go." she murmured, mounting the beast. Speaking to it in a forgotten tongue, she left, leaving his still bleeding body behind.

..--..

A small witch happened across Iban's body, and seeing how she could use him to please the god Zammorak, quickly put together a small voodoo doll of him. First she smeared a piece of his own flesh onto the doll, representing what would be his new body. Following that, she pulled from a pouch a bottle of the blood from a giant spider, used so the reincarnated body would have blood pumping through its veins. She dropped the vial on the ground when she finished pouring it over the doll, then began searching for something to complete his consciousness.

She scurried around the graveyard, before finally finding a dying dove, whose feathers were tinted gray. It was not _his_ dove, but it would do.

She took it into her hands, and muttering a few words under her breath, let it pass on, taking its consciousness and applying it to the doll. She placed it in an old, decorative box and put it next to the body on the altar.

Muttering a few words under her breath, she drew a symbol on the altar in blood, then pulled out a few runes to teleport back to her home near Ardounge.

Zammorak's son would soon be reborn.

Like the phoenix, he would rise again from the flames.

* * *

Thanks for reading this, if you did. .-. I'd like you to review with your opinion, though I'll ask for no flames. Yeah. For those who do not know, "Aeternum vale" is Latin for "farewell forever".

Next chapter coming soon-ish. .-Capricorn


	3. The Reunion

A/N- Capricorn here. Chapter three is up, yes. I changed the rating of this story from M to T. I was at first going to make it more graphic and more... mature, but I decided that the way this story has been written by now, I should change the rating so a wider variety of people can enjoy it. After all, the content isn't exactly M-rated material, now, is it?  
-Disclaimer- Mentos is my own character. Slash is my brother's character. All other people mentioned within are property of Jagex. Yeha.  
-A/N #2- Being a level 38 ranger in the game, I am proud to say that since I have renewed my membership, I recently completed the Underground Pass quest, believe it or not. I had the help of my brother, but I still killed each of the level 91 Demons, as well as the level 89 spider and the level 60 something paladins. Freaking awesome, ne? Don't believe me? I have screenshots, so you'll have to e-mail me about them.  
-On with the story!

_

* * *

_

_'I wasn't sure how much time had passed. I remembered only that Zamorak had come, telling me so many things. He filled my head with a vast knowledge of spells, and I could feel my once tall and muscular body change to one that was thinner and compact… the body of a spell caster._

_I have only Doomian, Holthian, and Othainian to keep me company in this vast cavern. Even they are not close enough to fulfill that empty feeling in the cavity of my chest, and I sometimes long for those days when I had many comrades by my side._

_Ahh, yes. Daquarius and the others. They knew of my unhappiness, but did nothing… we were all of a noble background, we were all well educated, and we all had liking for the luxurious. And yet, I was the only one with this empty thirst for power._

_She understood it._

_Even now her name escapes me. I know she tried to save my life, and she and I were partners on a mission. I remember we were ambushed, and I realize now she was just as alone as I was…_

_But I can't seem to remember her name._

_Damn it all._

_I loved her_._' _

..--..

It was quiet in the tiny inn of Ardounge, save for the beating of rain against the windows, and Mentos sat at a table in the back corner, alone, with a pint of ale in front of her. She liked the atmosphere of this place. It was comfortable, and no one was intruding on anyone else's private matters. The Flying Horse Inn, that's what locals called it.

At the bar was a man hunched over a small glass of liquor. He had a dark air about him, and Mentos assumed he was a follower of Zamorak. What did the bartender say his name was? Oh, yes, Lucien. He was a shady looking character, and the ranger's suspicions of his allegiance were confirmed when a man bearing a white and black painted face slipped in the door, head mostly covered with the black cowl of his cloak. Lord Hazeel. She had heard rumors of his revival while strolling around town.

Mentos liked this bar. It definitely had a feel to it that attracted people like herself- lonely warriors who could be so sick and twisted; yet friendly to those they knew and trusted. She felt like she could sit in this corner and let all her troubles drip away like the rain on the windows.

That was, until the hefty messenger from King Lathas showed up.

He marched into the room, shaking the rain from his deep blue cloak like a scorpion rid itself of sand. Instantaneously, Mentos' green-gray eyes narrowed. She did not like this man. He reminded her of an overweight owl, with a thick, fleshy neck and messy hair combed back to look presentable.

She watched warily as he approached the bartender, asking him quite a few questions. The bartender heaved a weary sigh, apparently used to this man's insistent attitude. After a moment, she noted the bartender nod towards her, directing the adviser's walk towards her table. If he were looking for someone to go home with him, she'd slit his throat then and there with no remorse.

After Iban's death, she trusted no one she didn't feel deserve it, and this man was one who she felt needed to be brutally murdered.

"Excuse me, m'lady." he asked politely, startling the ranger, "Are you Mentos?"

She curtly nodded, and the man continued, straightening his back to look proud and noble, although the way he presented his overweight torso made the ranger want to run her knife through him.

"I have a message from King Lathas for you. He wishes an audience, and says that he has a task he desires for you to take on."

Mentos stood abruptly, tall, lithe shoulders seeming very imposing to the little man.

"I'm not interested," she growled, eyes flashing dangerously, "I will go to him myself, however. I like this town; I don't want to have to fight my way out of it. I don't need a pig like you to accompany me."

She walked briskly out the door, grabbing her longbow as she went. A whistle of approval rang from the direction of Lucien and his friend, but the attention he earned was a throwing knife in the back of his barstool. Attached to the end of the knife was a small charm in the shape of Zamorak's insignia.

..--..

The King, in Mentos' opinion, was not fit to rule the quiet kingdom of Ardounge.

The man looked like a thief in her opinion, but she kept her tongue silent as he watched her enter from his throne. The room was extravagantly decorated, and she could only feel that being the ruler of such a nice city had gone to this man's head.

"Ranger Mentos." the man said, rising and giving her a half-bow. She raised an eyebrow in suspicion. Nothing she'd ever done called for respect from a king. Against her wrist, she felt the enchanted Zamorak symbol burn into her flesh. She only wore it there for the fact that her weathered vambraces hid the charm, never alerting anyone nearby of her allegiance.

What had Saradomin done for her, anyways? Nothing.

"I ask that you complete this task, for the good of not just Ardounge, but for the good of the entire world. Within the depths of the Underground Pass on the west side of Ardounge, there is a madman that resides there. He has claimed the souls of a good number of my best men, their minds stolen, making them dismal and corrupt. This man is cruel, and I know not what else to do.

"This is Slash," he started, gesturing to an apathetic looking young man standing next to the door. "He'll accompany you in this task. You two are the best I could find that would even consider doing this… I beg of you."

Mentos had looked to the fighter, taking in his appearance. He had shaggy, short cut, light auburn hair, and was apparently quite strong. His body was adorned with black armor, and strapped to his waist was a dragon long sword and a poisoned dagger. In his hand, though resting on the ground, was a granite maul. Mentos was sure she could spot a distinct red tinge on it, but she shook the thought from her head.

"I will undertake this request." she finally answered, much to the king's delight, "But I must first ask, does this man have a name?"

King Lathas shuddered, and both adventurers raised an eyebrow.

"They call him the Son of Zamorak, though I do believe his true name is Iban." he replied quietly.

Mentos stood there, dismayed. A thousand thoughts flew through her head.

'_He was dead. I held his body in my arms._

_There was so much blood. I felt his pulse stop._

_He said Zamorak would revive him_.'

The thought hit her harder than two fully armed guards could ever dream of. Could this be what he had talked of in his dying breath? He claimed to have been a devout follower of Zamorak, slaughtering those pledged to Saradomin without mercy.

"Let's go." she growled irately to Slash, though quite harshly. He nodded, but let out a slight snarl as an afterthought, tightening the grip on his maul.

"Watch it, missy. Remember, I have a stick with a rock the size of your torso. We're equal as long as we're on this mission."

She huffed a bit, but finally nodded. Her stride carried her out the door and down the beautiful flights of stairs, tracing patterns with a slender finger over the knife she had once dueled with in a far off castle.

'_Iban… what happened to you?'_

..--..

The great oak doors to west Ardounge were heavier than expected, but shifted easily when Slash pounded the entrance with his maul. The two hurried across the main plaza, past the rows of dilapidated buildings, and into the forest, where the trees had long since been dead and melancholy.

"I didn't think there were so many people living in these conditions." Mentos murmured to Slash, glancing behind them. He shrugged, shifting the armor on his well-muscled shoulders as he did so.

"In every world, the gods deemed that there must be balance among the three of them. Therefore, there must be people that are meant to suffer," he replied simply, not bothering to use the energy to look back, "These are some of those people."

The pass entrance was old, and apparently not many had dared to come by lately. Leaned against the entrance was a man in a ranger's uniform, though unarmed, save for a small hunting dagger at his waist. He was smoking a pipe, and looked up with the approach of the pair. Wisps of gray curled about his limbs, giving the area the appearance of being foggy and damp.

"Koftik?" Slash asked, looking the scrawny man over disdainfully. He looked bored with the man already. The scout nodded, and with a slight accent, replied-

"Yes, that is my name. You two are the warriors the King sent?" without waiting for a reply, he continued. "I hope you're well prepared, then. I'll go ahead, follow me in when you're ready."

With that, he entered the cave, emptying his pipe as he went. The embers burned on the stone before Mentos stopped the imminent fire with the heel of her boot.

"Come on." she mumbled, following the path in. A sort of warm breeze hit her face as she entered, enticing her onwards, but Slash paused for a moment, unsure of his actions.

"So cold." he growled finally, pushing forward. She raised her eyebrow slightly, but kept her thought to herself. After all, who was she to judge what was normal in this underground domain?

..--..

The inside of the pass was dark and dank, complete with rocks covered in moss, swampy areas, and many stalagmites. The moment Mentos entered this area, she felt a foreboding presence about her, and she felt invisible forces tugging at her very will.

Indeed, Iban had been reborn.

Everything about this tunnel seemed to emanate something about him. The walls, the floor, even the air. She knew, and there was no escaping the fact that he had been brought back. She felt warm, somehow, even though she could see the cold, stony surroundings.

After scrambling over several piles of rocks, across a bridge, down several passageways and past many traps, Slash, Koftik, and Mentos stood in a great hall, complete with a Chaos Altar and a deep, forbidding well. About the dark hole lay bodies, in the hand of one of them clutched an old, dusty journal. Prying it from the corpse's grip, Mentos cracked it open to read about the fate of Randas, a warrior that was once great and strong. The pass had corrupted him, and though it had been a few years since Iban's original death, it seemed it had not been long after he had died that he had been reborn. These corpses were at least two years old, if not older.

"I don't like this." Slash growled, looking into the well. Mentos shrugged.

"We have to do it, you know." she sighed and stepped onto the edge of the hole, then easily slid into the blackness. It was colder than anything she'd ever experienced, yet something comforting was hidden amongst the force that pulled her down.

He knew she had come to him.

Of course he knew, this was his domain. He was aware of any and all goings-on. The fact that he had sensed her entry into his vast underground kingdom didn't surprise her as much as it should have.

Slash soon followed, as did Koftik. They landed easily, one after the other, next to a few piles of crates filled with dried provisions. The scrawny man looked about, eyes darting to and fro. He seemed calm, but the wild look in his eyes told otherwise.

"Do either of you hear him?" he suddenly asked, shaking. Mentos shook her head, as did Slash. Koftik looked slightly more terrified now.

"The Master says he'll give me great power…" he garbled quietly, looking around fearfully. Mentos eyed him, hand slowly moving towards her knives. She remembered the words Lathas had spoken- Iban possessed the people that came through the Pass.

"He asks me nothing." Slash said, looking to Mentos for support. She nodded in agreement.

"I hear his voice whispering now, though, I didn't notice it before." she stated, continuing their path past a few cages of slaves, "I can't make out any words, but he doesn't seem to be threatening me."

Koftik let out a sad sigh, but kept up with them as they made their way past several more traps and passageways, following Mentos' instinct as a tracker and ranger. These winding paths would make one's head spin, and all three were glad for companions at this point. Finding a unicorn's horn near a slaughtered beast that had been crushed by a boulder, she picked it up and delicately put it into the pouch at her side.

"Whoever runs this show has a mind like mine." Slash growled, smashing a skeleton's head with his maul, "Sick, twisted, and willing to kill those in his way."

"Mmm." Mentos replied, searching the wall before she found a hidden passageway, "You and he seem to have the same frame of mind, I guess."

They continued deeper into the dungeon, before meeting up with three paladins. They were noble men, journeying into the depths of the passageways in the name of Saradomin. They were as of yet untainted by Iban's calls, but they seemed wary of the travelers. The paladins lent them some provisions when they revealed that the trio was, indeed, venturing farther into the dungeon.

To seal their hidden fear of the trio, Slash indifferently lifted his maul and killed each one of them with a crushing blow to the head, then collected the badges, remembering an excerpt from Randas' long forgotten journal. Koftik looked on in horror and hung back away from them, shaking slightly in his well-traversed boots.

"Come on." Slash snarled, cracking his knuckles. They moved quickly past the slaughtered knights and into a room with a fiery well in the center of it. On the opposite wall was a grand oak door with a ram's skull adorning the top, securely locked from the other side.

Mentos seated herself on the edge of the flame-filled pit and gazed into it, reading the inscription along the edge-

_'While I sense the soft beating of a  
__Good heart I will not open,  
__Feed me three crests of the blessed,  
__And the creature's remains,  
__Throw them to me as an offering…  
__A gift of hatred, a token.  
__Then finally rejoice as all goodness dies in my flames…'_

She murmured the words under her breath, then held out her gloved hand.

"Slash, hand me those crests." she called, looking up. He strolled over and placed the bloodied seals into her palm, looking over her shoulder into the well. She pushed her dark blonde hair from her face and pulled the unicorn horn from her bag, before she simply let the muscles in her hand relax, watching from her stony gray eyes as the articles fell the distance into the dancing flames.

A cold chill ran about the room, and soon a quiet click emanated from the door, signaling that it had been unlocked in the process of destroying whatever purity was left in this dank cavern.

"He's so close." Mentos murmured, more to herself than anyone else. His voice was slowly becoming louder in her head, telling her that she could join him and have the power of the gods at her disposal…

Yet she didn't believe one word of what he was saying. She had heard too much from both the weathered journal back at the altar and from those who had seen it- telling people they could be as powerful as the three gods was merely a ploy to get them to submit to his will.

She stepped through the doorway, following Slash and Koftik, and into the vast main chamber of the Underground Pass. If one had thought that the rest of this lair was large, they would be overwhelmed with the size of this area.

Mentos' heart pounded underneath her armor, sensing that Iban was so close to her, yet so far away and out of her reach at the same time. Making their way south, she felt his influence fade for a moment. Of course, once they stepped out of this dark area and into a lighter cave, his voice hit her harder and louder than the mob that had once taken her parent's life back in the deserts of Al-Kharid.

'_I_ _see you, adventurer… you can't hide_.' it growled threateningly, raking the ranger's body with unbridled fear.

"He's so confused…" she said quietly, falling behind Slash's quick pace, loosing more and more of her lead. He had paused his stride for a moment, but continued on.

"If you can't make it, then stay with those dwarves." he muttered quite gruffly, "I don't want you to drag me down when I go in."

Mentos snarled in reply, stopping her stride.

"I'll go alone, then," she growled, turning around and going back the way they had came, "I do better alone. I'm going to Iban right now. Who cares if I know how to kill him or not?"

Slash turned, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. He looked her over once again; trying to make sure that it was just a ranger standing in front of him and not a goddess in disguise.

"How do you know so much about him, and why do you seem to care about his fate?" he asked, referring to the madman ruling the pass. Mentos merely shook her head and walked away, deciding it best that she not fully answer his question now.

"You'll learn in time." she replied, unslinging her longbow from over her shoulder. She went back the way they had come, making her way over ancient paths suspended over a pit of nothingness, making her way towards the man who had risen like the phoenix.

..--..

The doors to Iban's sanctuary were huge, twice the height of an average man. A few different types of ram skulls hung about it, showing a sort of tribal relevance prevailed over the followers of Zamorak and his Son. Two winged boars stood atop small pillars at the base of a flight of ancient, worn stairs, mythical beasts symbolizing brute strength and power.

Two or three torches were set up in the area to shed enough light on the temple so one accustomed to the dark could see where their feet would fall, yet little enough luminosity to leave an eerie feeling laying across the area, like walking through a graveyard on Hallow's Eve. The statues were basked in the unnatural light as well, throwing their features into a dark and sinister gaze.

There were mages, too, a moderate amount of Zamorak followers trained in the art of fire magic and dark binding spells littered about the area, seemingly keeping watch should a traveler get too close to their beloved Lord. One of them stood from an inscription in a large stone tablet, dropping his knife as he went back to his fellow magicians.

Mentos crept silently nearer to the sanctuary, pausing for a moment only to read the fresh writing engraved into the stone, written with such care and time-consuming effort.

"_And now our god has given us  
__One who is from our own,  
__A saviour who once sat upon  
__His father's glorious throne,  
__It is in your name that we will lead the attack,  
__Iban, Son of Zamorak…_"

She shuddered and moved in closer, hiding at the edge of crumbling platforms as the disciples passed to and fro, unnoticing of her stealthy movements. In her hand was her own dagger, should one of the young mages should spot her silent approach and raise the alarm amongst his comrades.

The worn, leather boots on her feet made no noise as she slowly made her way past the taller, stronger mages stationed closer to the entrance, whose dark colored eyes gave her the impression that they had come from the desert area, much like herself. Pushing runaway thoughts from her head, she concentrated on reaching her goal.

Steadily putting down one foot after another, she silently reached the doors, waiting until none of the mages were looking her way before she slipped quietly in the entrance.

Inside the temple, the walls were covered in ancient writings, reaching up to the top of the massive walls. Pillars reached into the black nothingness that was above Mentos' head, carved elaborately with pictograms depicting scenes of the God Wars and other massive battles. Images of Zamorak and his brother Saradomin covered the majority of the pillars, but every now and then a scene where Guthix opposed Zamorak would be etched into the stone.

In the center of the room stood a well with a red tint about the edges, also decorated much like the columns. Elvish words were inscribed on the front, translating into common tongue as "Well of Voyage". Moving back farther into the room were massive dragon's ribs, taller than the ranger, making a walkway to a simple-looking throne, carved into the very rock itself.

Dust on the ground swirled about the woman's feet as she stepped lightly forward, warily taking in her surroundings. The sound of another's footsteps hit her ears, and looking forward to match it with another being, she saw what she had hoped not to be.

He stood just above six feet, as always, in a floor-length, hooded robe the color of the sky during a thunderstorm. Markings that were characteristic of Zamorak's priests were one the front, marking him as a leader in his faction. His hands, once gloved, were now exposed, bearing tattoos of tribal markings down his wrists. His obsidian hair was longer, falling to where his ribcage would end if one could merely dissect him to see what made him tick. It had a strange sheen to it, seemingly from the torches set sparingly about the room. Crimson eyes watched from a thin face, skin tanned, yet slightly grayish in color.

He was the Son of Zamorak- Iban, the Black Knight.

"_Salve_." he growled, pulling the hood down from his cloak. He stepped a few feet forward, soundlessly, and tilted his head sideways to take in her image. His body, once built and strong, was now thin and light, more like the spell caster he was meant to be.

"Sparring match," Mentos retorted plainly, drawing her dagger back out from seemingly nowhere, yet dropping her bow and quiver where she stood, "Daggers only."

A smirk crept across the face of the man once said to have been the finest warrior in the realm. His teeth gleamed white and straight, save for two ivories that were pointed like a vampire's.

"Agreed." he murmured in reply, casting his cloak aside with a flourish. His body underneath the storm gray covering was clad a black, tight-fitting, long-sleeved shirt, and worn, leather chaps the color of charred dragon hide. Knee-high leather boots, well worn and easy to move in, covered his feet. Muscles were clearly outlined on his body, showing that he hadn't become weak when reborn into this new form. He was built like a thoroughbred- lean and limber, but still strong.

He pulled his chipped dagger from a small sheath at his waist, falling into a combat position to show he was ready to begin. Mentos, too, readied herself, watching his form and position carefully.

Without hesitation, he charged forward, letting an ardent roar escape his throat. Evading past her first thrust, he parried her attack, bringing his dagger down swiftly, just barely missing her shoulder. Leaping backward, Mentos discarded her cloak as well, quickly slipping back farther from Iban to regain her composure.

"You've lost your touch, dear," he said, straightening his back with a sickening crack as he casually made his way towards where she was perched, precariously watching from the granite throne, "You used to be the only person I knew who could make the first strike so cleanly and smoothly, with such grace and defined movement…" His voice sounded more velvety than before, as if he were used to people submitting to his will.

"Shut up," she snapped finally, pushing her dirty blonde hair from her face, "If you think that using the same methods you use to make ordinary men submit their souls to you will work on me, you're wrong. It'll take more than that to crush my mind."

Her voice fell to a growl as her eyes narrowed, gazing down at him with an aggressive, yet defensive expression adorning her face. Her weight shifted slightly, before she raised her lithe body and charged forward, lifting her arm to bring her dagger down into his chest, but instead colliding into him, pushing all of her force behind the attack. Iban choked for air from the blow, falling backwards to the ground, the ranger pinning him in the dirt.

The dust itself, swirling around the fighting pair, sifted through the air in delicate patterns, so dependent on the atmosphere around it to survive. It slowly settled, leaving flecks of gray on the clothing of the warriors, marking them with its own meaning.

"So I was wrong." Iban muttered, looking apologetically to the side. His dagger had slid out of reach in his fall, and he was now at the mercy of the ranger atop him. His breathing picked up, now having to compensate for the extra weight on his chest. A small stream of crimson trickled down his cheek, staining the corner of his mouth.

Mentos sighed, relaxing her shoulders. She hunched slightly over, staring at a spot to the left of Iban's head, a sudden feeling unknown to her welling up inside the pit of her chest cavity.

"Why?" she murmured, sliding to the side as to not stop Iban's breathing, "Just… why?"

Iban sat up, bending one leg so he could lean on it. He did not go for his dagger, nor did he attempt to escape the questioning that would soon arise. He calmly sat there and wiped the blood from his cheek, patiently waiting her inquiries.

"Start from the beginning," she mumbled, rubbing her forehead, "You had just died, and I had left you on the altar. You were revived by someone, and then brought here, am I correct?" The man nodded calmly, scooting slowly closer to the ranger. He propped himself up next to her, staring at the opposite wall absently.

"I was brought here, and then Zamorak came to me. He gave me instructions to enslave people who came through this pass, so he could use them in his own devious plans. The mages outside were left here by him to protect myself, seeing as Ardounge's guards are a bit unhappy about all of this." he gestured with his hand to prove his point. "That well was once a portal to the swamps that are just east of Al-Kharid. Ardounge wants to use it as a trading route, but I myself even disagree- Zamorak turned the well into an evil device, and part of the power he granted me as a spell caster is derived from there."

Mentos huffed, unimpressed with this source of energy.

"How long have you been here?" she asked, yawning lightly. She shook her head to keep herself awake, tracing little patterns in the dust with a single, slender finger.

"I've lost track, but a few years now, at least," he replied, eyes softening, "When I found out where I was, I went to the witch who lives at the other end of this cavern. She's the one who revived me in the first place. I demanded that she let me go back to Al-Kharid to look for you, to let you know I was alive, but she denied my request and told me if I were to leave against her will, she could destroy my reincarnated body right there. Seeing as she created this form, I didn't doubt she could destroy it."

For a moment, Mentos was quiet, a sudden bout of exhaustion overtaking her weary mind. Craning her head back, she gazed at the elegant pillars, carved so long ago with such defined grace.

"One of your companions knows." Iban muttered suddenly, shaking his head. He stood, gracefully slipping his arm about the ranger's shoulders to lift her off the ground as well. Gathering both of their cloaks, he tossed Mentos her mantle, fastening the clasp about his own neck as he did so. This lighter cape was black, trimmed with crimson at the end.

"You kept it…" Mentos murmured, strapping her quiver to her back and retrieving her bow. He nodded, picking his staff from the side of the ancient throne and slinging a small bag around his neck, presumably filled with runes for his spells.

"The warrior you came with is figuring out the one way to destroy my body," he growled, throwing open the great oak doors. To keep the ranger from being attacked by the disciples spread around the area, and to keep her at the same pace as himself, he grabbed hold of her hand, quickly making his way down the ancient steps of his sanctuary and over thin passes, moving with an vague rhythm that coursed through his entire body, from the way his tresses moved over his shoulders to the pace each foot hit the floor.

She lost track of how many secret tunnels and passageways they had gone down, turning left and right, then doubling back, going left again… there was no specific pattern to it, just the twisting madness of the Underground Pass. Several minutes passed where he practically dragged her past numerous pens, each one bearing a mighty beast that resembled a cross between a dragon and one of the Lesser Demons that had been mostly myth until quite recently.

"Where are we going, may I ask?" she inquired, jogging to keep up with his pace. No sooner had the words left her mouth that they rounded a corner and stepped out into the fading sunlight, high atop the earth on a precarious, natural balcony etched out of the side of the mountain. Iban finally let go of her gloved hand, stepping forward to the edge of the platform. He spread his arms to the twilight in a grand motion.

"The only piece of the world outside of my domain that I can even see," he started, gazing past the dead trees that made up most of the surrounding forest of the mountains, "The leaves don't change in the spring and fall, and it always looks the same."

He paused momentarily, before he let his limbs fall back to his side, seating himself on the stone and motioning for the ranger to do the same. He gestured across the terrain that was visible, even in the fading daylight, parts of which even showed the curvature of the planet.

"The sunset. It's always different," he continued, staring longingly at the distant lands, listening to the howl of a pack of wolves moving through the lifeless forest, free to do as they aspired, bound by no laws and no rules, "Just like a faraway dream."

* * *

For those of you who read that, I thank you. Any suggestions, comments, praise, etc, should be directed at the little button at the corner of your screen. Flames should be left out. If you read all tweleve pages of this and are just going to flame it, you need a life.  
-Extra Notes: "Salve" is Latin for "Hail", or "Welcome". The inscripions that are read in this chapter are actually hidden inside the Underground Pass quest, should you care to find them. 


End file.
